Rapunzel's Hairpins
by Solo Ensemble
Summary: [Liason COMPLETE]: Jason rescues Elizabeth from the crypt.


**Rapunzel's Hairpins**

His finger worked the slender lockpick, fast and furious over the heavy padlock that stood between him and the crypt. Beads of sweat broke out on Jason's forehead as he glanced up at the crypt – just for a moment – before bending down and resuming his task, his long fingers skillfully manipulating the inner mechanisms of the lock. Faster, faster…

The moon was full, casting an eerie pale glow over the dilapidated tomb. A warm breeze ruffled through his golden hair as Jason squinted down at the lock and then at the crypt. She was in there…She was in there.

"Elizabeth!" His voice was hoarse and cracking as he tugged at the stubborn lock, his biceps straining. _"Elizabeth!"_

He leaned forward, scraping his knee through the denim of his jeans on the gritty pavement, and Jason barely heard the click of a loaded gun behind his head.

"Stop right there!"

The mobster froze, his long fingers still grasping the slender silver pick, and slowly turned over his shoulder. Standing three paces behind him was a sweaty, obviously nervous rookie cop whose navy cap looked two sizes too large. His hands were holding a Glock trained straight at Jason's head, and the mobster had to swallow as he slowly stood.

"Hands in the air, buddy, hands in the air!" The cop was taking no chances and jerked his gun along with each high-pitched word. "Put 'em where I can see 'em."

"Look, I don't have much time," Jason got out in a low voice, raising his wrists to his shoulder as the copper stepped closer menacingly. "There's a girl-a woman, trapped in that crypt and I need-"

The rookie cop squinted at him and then at the crypt before slowly lowering his gun. "_That_ crypt? That's impossible. It's-"

He didn't have the chance to continue as Jason's hand came slamming down on the pressure point at his neck, and the young police officer crumpled to the ground. Turning away in one swoop, Jason bent over the lock once more and resumed picking it. There wasn't time. From what Tagliati had told him, Alcazar had turned on the gas line as soon as he learned that Corinthos knew where Miss Webber was being held. The man had money and an army of men, but he didn't have a shred of common sense. There was no way that he'd escape alive.

But revenge was an afterthought; first, he had to get Elizabeth out of there before the whole place blew. He didn't know when Alcazar had ordered the gas to be turned on, but Benny had been investigating it for the last ten minutes since they got the report. The line wasn't one used by the city – it was an older, supposedly defunct gas line that Alcazar had started up in anticipation of this situation. In anticipation of having Elizabeth Webber killed off.

"_Elizabeth!" _A triumphant cry escaped his lips as the lock gave way, and Jason pushed himself off the ground and ran into the graveyard. The weeds were tall and the nettles grabbed at his jeans but he kept running straight for the dilapidated crypt at the end of the pathway.

* * *

Elizabeth Webber awoke with a start, nearly jumping a foot off the floor as her dream shattered into harsh reality – the reality of a dirty, hard cement floor in a dark, skeleton-ridden tomb. The previous night in the crypt had been cold but for some reason, tonight wasn't. Instead, it was pleasantly warm.

She lifted herself to her elbows, brushing her hair back from her eyes and feeling unprepared for the wave of nausea that suddenly washed over her. The air in the crypt was warm and wet, balmy, and it made her fair skin clammy. Her eyes stung and she closed them tightly, trying to fight her way up to a standing position.

Her long fingers clamped around the edge of a raised coffin, holding onto the stone as if it were a lifeline. The nausea grew stronger, and she had to bend over at the waist to find some relief. Her watery eyes drifted around the hazy crypt as Elizabeth wondered just what the hell was going on.

And then it hit her – a gas leak.

That explained it: the nausea, the stinging eyes, the warmth, the wetness, the faint odor in the air. The crypt was slowly filling with gas. She was going to die by asphyxiation.

"Oh, no, I'm not." Gritting her teeth against the sudden vertigo, Elizabeth grabbed at her jacket which lay balled up on the floor from when she used it as a pillow. It took her a minute to pull it on as she stumbled to the door to try the lock for the millionth time. Hayes always locked it carefully whenever he left. There was a corridor beyond that door, she knew, which led to another door with another lock. And if she could make it out of that, she'd be free.

If only she had a fucking credit card.

With a sigh, Elizabeth dropped down to her knees to look through the keyhole. Even Sydney couldn't save her now. Damn _Alias_. The corridor was dark and she could see straight through to the other locked door that would lead to her salvation.

The gas was filling the crypt slowly with a soft haze, and Elizabeth struggled to concentrate. She didn't have any cards on her or any sort of device she could jury-rig to crack the lock. Hayes and his goons had done a good job of frisking her, even copping a feel whenever they could.

Her hair slipped into her face once more and Elizabeth pushed it back with annoyance. If only she had a couple hairpins…

The thought no sooner entered her head than she realized that she _did –_ she did have hairpins! Her excited fingers raced to the waistband of her jeans – she had clipped two or three onto her jeans right before leaving the studio for breakfast at Kelly's and they had to still be there because she didn't remember Hayes finding them.

An overjoyed little yelp echoed through the crypt as the petite brunette finally found what she was looking for – a couple good, sturdy hairpins. Halle-fricking-lujah.

She dropped down to her knees once more in front of the lock, knowing that she'd have to work fast because the deadly gas was already settling at the bottom of the crypt. Lucky had shown her once how to pick a lock, claiming it was one of the most useful things he'd ever learned from Luke, and she prayed that her fingers still remembered. She inserted the clip into the lock and jiggled it around, searching for the exact mechanism that would spring the lock. A minute inched by as she struggled and searched, finding nothing.

The gas was now forming a light, visible fog on the bottom of the crypt, lapping at her waist as she sat crouched on the dirty floor. Elizabeth removed the pin and banged her forehead once against the hard wood for good measure, trying to slam some thought back into it. The gas was making her dizzy and sick and she couldn't…

She had to.

Elizabeth's eyes were watering as she squinted into the lock again as if she could find the tiny mechanism with her naked eye. Moonlight shone into the dark corridor, filtering in through the cracks in the decaying roof. The solid door lay just ahead, one final obstacle on her road to freedom.

And if she hadn't just imagined it, the door had rattled.

Elizabeth pressed closer, inching her eye toward the keyhole as she stared at the great door beyond. It _was_ rattling – it was trembling, ever so slightly, but it _was_ trembling. Her heart caught in her throat as Elizabeth covered her mouth, praying that she wasn't just seeing things in her weakened mental state. Three days and four nights trapped in a crypt with the entire Addams family to keep her company, and now the door was rattling – no, fate couldn't be that cruel to her.

She didn't realize how loud her breathing was until she strained to hear, holding her breath as she listened. What she heard next made her heart soar.

"_Elizabeth!"_

"Ja-" Her voice died in her throat as tears suddenly flooded her eyes, and Elizabeth let out a soft sob, her fingers closing tightly around the pins in her hand. "Jason! _Jason!"_

The door rattled again now, clattering loudly in its hinges, and she knew that he was working on it, working on getting her out. With renewed fervor, Elizabeth jammed her hairpins in the lock and tried to concentrate. Her fingers seemed to know what they were doing and acted on their own volition, searching out the tiny cogs that would set her free. She gritted her teeth when she heard them _ping!_ off the metal, pulling back an inch only to start in again. She had almost had it – one more try and she _would_ have it, by God.

"_Elizabeth!"_

His voice was hoarse and ragged but filled her heart with a surge of warmth. Just knowing that he was there, that he was with her, sent a surge of strength and adrenaline racing through Elizabeth's limbs. The pin trembled, threatened to snap, and she lost it. Biting her tongue firmly between two rows of teeth, Elizabeth jammed it back in and tried once more. _Third time's the charm._

She heard the door shatter as Jason pushed through it, letting the wood clang against the stone walls, and then the thundering sound of his footsteps filled her ears as Elizabeth struggled with the damn rusted lock.

"Elizabeth! I'm here, I-"

"Jason, wait – the gas!" Her voice, high and almost a shriek, stopped him in his tracks. It had been three days since he had heard her voice. Shaking his head, Jason launched himself at the door and got out his pick.

"I've got it, Elizabeth, just hold on-"

"No, no-" Again, her voice stopped him. "I'm almost there."

He didn't have time to wonder what the hell she meant by that; the next thing he knew, there was a rusty click and the doors slowly drifted open an inch. And then Elizabeth was launching herself to her feet and was in his arms. Jason didn't have the capacity to do anything but sweep her small body up off the ground as she gagged and coughed, and the two of them ran out of the crypt.

Sonny and Francis were outside, standing in the tall nettles, when Jason got out. Elizabeth sucked in the cool night air greedily, her small body still racked with coughs and convulsions as she tried to expel the foul gas from her lungs. Sonny barked into his phone and backed up as Jason ran toward them and then turned and led the way to the waiting car. Francis lowered his cocked gun and grabbed Jason's bicep with one strong hand, helping to pull the enforcer along and out of harm's way.

They raced past the gate that Jason had broken in through and just kept on going to Sonny's waiting cars. The driver was tense at the wheel, ready to go, and Sonny was holding the door open and furiously beckoning them over. They had to get the hell out of the area because if the crypt blew, it could easily take out one full quarter of the entire graveyard.

Francis dove into the limo and pulled Jason and Elizabeth in, with Sonny falling in right after them and wrenching the door shut, all the while shouting to the driver, "Go, go!" Rubber burned the pavement and tires squealed as Max pulled away and raced down the graveyard's paved narrow streets.

Safe inside the limo, Sonny and Francis moved to the opposite seat so that Jason could have some room for Elizabeth. He held the brunette tenderly in his arms, brushing her hair back from her face as she coughed out the last of the gas that still clouded her lungs. Her eyes were hooded, half-closed, and still raw and starry. She was curled up in a ball as she gagged, and Francis tried to pour half a glass of water for her as Max pealed out of the graveyard, but ended up spilling some on his pants and the leather seats.

"Elizabeth?" Jason's voice was low and strained but still sounded like a grumble of thunder in the deathly silent limo. "Elizabeth, can you hear me?"

Her coughing had subsided, leaving her weak and limp in his arms. Jason's rough fingertips smoothed her hair back gently and the enforcer exchanged worried glances with his boss and bodyguard. Sonny raked a hand through his wild curls and leaned forward, peering at the subdued brunette. "Elizabeth?"

"We gettin' through to ya, Squirt?" Francis murmured, also leaning closer to study her face and not noticing the curious look both Sonny and Jason directed at him for his choice in terms of endearment.

"How she doin'?" Max called back from the driver's seat, easily maneuvering the limo and glancing back over his shoulder occasionally. "Should I call Doc Morrison?"

Jason frowned and hooked his fingers under Elizabeth's chin, tilting her body up slightly as he watched her brows furrow. She murmured something, and her full lips parted on a soft moan. His thumb lightly stroked the little cleft in her chin. "Elizabeth? Elizabeth, you need to wake up. Come on, Elizabeth."

Her raven lashes fluttered slowly to reveal dazed and glassy sapphire orbs below, and Elizabeth struggled slightly to sit up in his hold. She blinked rapidly, trying to clear her vision and obviously confused about where she was. But when she met a pair of coal black eyes and a pair of soft gray ones, both shining back at her with concern, she knew. Swallowing, she slowly lifted her gaze to the warm body she was cradled against.

Two startling orbs of purest cerulean gazed down at her and for a moment, Elizabeth forgot to breathe. It was Jason. He had saved her after all. She looked up at him, her eyes glassy now but with tears instead. The enforcer's lips parted on her name but he never got to say it because she pushed herself up in his lap and pressed her lips hard against his.

Jason's eyes widened as he stared at her closed lids, now less than an inch from his. Her lips were soft and warm against his and her hand had already snaked around his neck to hold him close, and when he felt her lips move against his, Jason allowed himself to relax and respond.

Suddenly uncomfortable with the unexpected display of affection, Sonny and Francis leaned back in their seats, casting awkward glances at each other as they tried for Jason's sake not to watch. Finally, Francis couldn't take it anymore. The corner of his lips curled as the Italian bodyguard leaned slightly toward his boss, smirking at the young couple curled up in an embrace. "Looks like she's doin' just fine, eh?"

Sonny snickered and looked out the window, tapping his trimmed nails against the door handle. Across from him, Jason and Elizabeth finally parted for air and the petite brunette rested her forehead tenderly against the enforcer's. His eyes were still closed as he tried to return his heavy breathing to normal. Elizabeth glanced sideways at Sonny, who still had his gaze averted, and then Francis, who was smirking cheekily back at her, and cleared her throat.

Jason slowly opened his eyes when he felt her reach for his hand. Staring down at his opened palm, he was surprised to see two black hairpins. "What're these?"

"Credit cards don't work," she informed him seriously, her dark blue eyes twinkling. "From now on, we use hairpins."

**The End.  
**


End file.
